The Fire Escape
by gothchic6
Summary: Gwen is a bouncer at a bar in NYC. When she falls off of her fire escape, she is rescued by a certain red mask wearing Ninja Turtle. What develops out of this? Rated M for swearing, and future chapters.


**Okay, so I've been working on this for a while. I've always liked the idea of a TMNT fanfic. So, I present to you, my first TMNT fanfic, The Fire Escape!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT, nor do I gain anything from writing this.**

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><p><span>Chapter One: The Fall<span>

I am sitting on the railing of the fire escape, my long legs dangling over the edge. I know it's dangerous to be sitting on the edge like I am, but at the moment, I honestly don't care. I am just watching the urban environment of New York City as it flourishes, even at the current time of one o'clock AM. I can see all types of people walking on through the city, though most of them look more than a little shady. That never really concerns me, though. After all, who in their right mind would climb all the way up the fire escape just to get to me? I have to be at least more than 20 feet from the ground.

I love the thrill of sitting on the edge of the fire escape at night. After a really stressful day as a bouncer at a local bar, I just enjoy the feeling of being free from all of my troubles. My fire escape adventures give me that needed freedom.

When I work at the bar, I am quite used to throwing out men who have most likely had too many drinks and are revving up for a fight. I have no problem dealing with them. It is the women that truly stress me out. The women who go to the bar are usually the type to wear revealing clothes, wear lots of makeup, and flirt with a man any chance they get. They are also very judgmental of other women, myself included. The minute most of them take a look at me, I often hear them say things like, "Dyke", or a favorite, "Lesbo Bitch".

While I'm not the most ladylike woman to walk the planet, I am by no means masculine. I'm tall for a woman at 5'8", and have a stocky but not overweight body type. I have definite curves, but I always hide them underneath the large sweatshirts I always wear to work. I don't necessarily want to appear manly, but what I do want is to look unattractive enough for the men at the bar to ignore me. After all, my purpose at the bar is to look intimidating, not pretty.

My skin is a nice olive tone that I achieve from being outside most of the time, when I work out in the city's many parks. This means that my body is also very toned, but with my curves still intact. My short light brown hair reaches to my shoulders when down, but I usually keep it in a ponytail while wearing a baseball cap. My chocolate eyes are of average size, and are actually very flattering to the rest of my face.

For a woman of twenty-three, I suppose I am somewhat attractive. That is, when I'm not at the bar.

Tonight, I am dressed very differently compared to the black slacks and sweatshirts that I wear to work. Baggy grey sweatpants hang on my hips, while a peach colored tank top covers my slightly above average chest. My usual baseball cap is absent from my head, while my hair falls naturally against my back. All in all, I am comfortable.

Today had been a particularly stressful day at the bar. Today, I worked my regular hours, from 3pm to 11pm. Everything was fine until around 9PM, when two of the slutty women got into a fight over one of the men. It was truly a catfight; the two women were practically clawing at each other with their long, tacky fake nails. They also pulled on each other's hair, and one even landed a good punch before I managed to get over there to stop them. I was successful in pulling the two apart, and I pushed them away from each other before telling them to leave. One of them gave a loud "Humph", and walked out of the bar. The other wasn't quite so peaceful, however.

The woman's ice blue eyes were cold with malicious intent. She glared at me before going on to ridicule me.

"Who the hell are you to interrupt my fight with Brandy? It was between me and her! There was no reason for you to butt in, Dyke", the beach blonde said with contempt.

I rolled my eyes at the bitchy girl. "Yeah, but your fight was happening in the bar, and we don't allow fighting here. If you want to brawl, find yourself an alley or something. Just don't do it here."

The blonde scrunched up her nose snottily, acting as if she was better than everyone else. She walked to the counter, her hips swinging dangerously in her slutty, black leather miniskirt. She put her hands on the counter, and leaned in so I could hear everything that she was going to whisper.

"You are nothing but a Dyke bitch who will never get a man because you're too ugly for anyone to love you. It would take massive amounts of make up and spandex to cover up all of the disgusting flab you probably hide underneath those sweatshirts you wear everyday. Is that why you wear sweatshirts? Is it because you're too fat to wear anything else? Huh, you fat dyke bitch?"

I gritted my teeth, the Dyke comment hitting me hard. I had always had problems with women at the bar that would make fun of me because of my non-feminine appearance. However, I chuckled to myself lightly, thinking about the fat comment.

'Joke's on you, bitch', I thought happily, 'my body is more muscled than you could ever think to be. If I ever take my sweatshirt off here, it'll be me who the guys are sweating for, not you. Not that I care.'

The blonde continued on with her ridicule. "Oh, and what's up with that hat? Totally out of fashion, unless you're an old lady golfer. Trying to hide the fact that you never wash or brush your hair? If you are, then it's not working."

I ignored the blonde's comments about my hygiene, and went back to wiping down glasses behind the bar. I wasn't bothered by those comments. I take a shower everyday, and even sometimes, twice a day. It really didn't affect me in any way. The blonde wasn't finished, however.

"Oh, and you should really shave. Your mustache is already coming in really bushy, and if your legs and pussy are anything like your mustache, then I'd be sorry for the next man who sees you naked."

I slammed the glass I was holding on the counter, where it thankfully didn't break. I glared at the blonde, and in a low hiss, I responded, "I'm afraid you will have to leave."

By that time, everyone in the bar had noticed the blonde who was fighting a few minutes ago picking a fight with the favorite bouncer. They turned in their seats to watch the two of us go at it.

The blonde laughed obnoxiously, and threw her arms up in the air.

"And who's gonna make me leave, huh, dyke? Are you gonna be the one to throw my ass outside on the street? Or are you just doing this so you can cop a feel? I know I'm sexy, lesbo; I don't need to be told that. Besides, you'll never have tits or an ass like these, so why not manhandle me, and see what you're missing?"

Everyone in the bar gasped at the blonde's words, most of them knowing of my temper. But to their surprise, I burst out laughing. When I finally stopped, I replied,

"Why would I try to cop a feel on something that isn't even real? We both know that both your tits and your ass are made of silicone. Besides, you're not quite my type."

The whole bar erupted in laughter, and a few guys even yelled out a "BURN" or two. The blonde's face went tomato red, and she lunged at me.

Before the blonde could do anything to me, I twisted her arm at an unnatural angle until she yielded. I then proceeded to yell at her to get out, and the woman did so, running out the bar like a bat out of hell.

Everyone was laughing, and some patted me on the back. Then, the back door opened. I looked to see who was coming in. Silence filled the bar as the owner, Mark, entered the bar area, and walked up to me.

"A young woman outside told me that you assaulted her", he said in his stern, deep voice.

"I was only breaking up a fight between her and another woman."

"Still, she says you did some considerable damage."

"All I did was twist her arm after she lunged at me. Just ask these guys! They saw everything."

"I'm sure you have a reasonable explanation for your actions. Still, she could sue us for the injuries you gave her, Gwen."

"What injuries? Unless she has something that requires medical attention, she doesn't have a case!"

"Still, Gwen, she can sue us for assault and possibly, harassment. If you weren't my best bouncer, I might consider…"

"Consider what", I challenged.

Mark sighed, and said, "I might consider firing you. But you're too good at your job, and everyone loves you here, including me. You're a great hit with the regulars, you get along with the staff really well, and you never ask for a raise. You're practically what every employer looks for in an employee. I love ya, Gwen, and I'd never fire you for something as small as this. I am, however, cutting your pay for today. You need to go talk to the young woman out there! She's threatening to sue!"

"Alright, I'll go talk to her, Mark. If she won't let go of the lawsuit, I'll persuade her to sue me personally, and not you guys. It's not your fault."

And that's how I ended up with a lawsuit against me, and lower pay in just one day.

My phone rings. It's my lawyer, Matthew Sedgwick. I go to answer it, but I lose my balance on the railing. Falling from the railing is the last thing I remember before my vision goes black.

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><p>Raphael was not having a good day. It had started out shitty, and had progressed until he just couldn't take it anymore. He had to go topside, or the anger he had been holding in would explode in a fit of rage. Sure, his brothers and Master Splinter were used to his raging temper, but Raphael knew that if he stayed in the lair, his anger would blind him into saying things he didn't mean. And he didn't want to go through that again.<p>

Raphael knew the day was for shit when Mikey woke him up by throwing a cold bucket of water on him. With turtles being cold-blooded creatures, it had certainly pissed Raphael off. Not to mention, it had been around eight in the morning, aka too early for Raphael to even consider getting up. He had chased Mikey all over the lair, yelling curses at him. He had finally managed to catch him and was about to pummel Mikey when Master Splinter emerged from his chambers and chastised him for almost hurting his brother. He'd done twenty flips as punishment while Mikey got off scot-free.

Later, while they were training, Leo had pretty much kicked his ass. While that wasn't enough to ignite Raph's hot temper, the fact that Leo had the nerve to gloat about it was what really made Raphael go over the edge. He had picked the closest thing to him, Mikey's spare pair of nun chucks, and chucked them at Leo. Leo saw it coming, and jumped out of the way. The nun chucks hit the weapons rack, and all of the various weapons were scattered onto the floor. Not to mention, the rack itself wasn't in good shape, either. Master Splinter made Raphael do fifty flips as punishment, and as an added punishment, he was to stay in the lair the next time the turtles went out on patrol. Raphael's blood was boiling by that time.

So Raph had snuck out after everyone was asleep. He knew Leo would kill him for sneaking out, and that Master Splinter would give Raphael his own type of punishment, as well. But as he runs from rooftop to rooftop, venting his anger, Raph's mind strays from the possible punishments that he could receive to the fact that the city has been oddly peacefully this week.

Normally, on average, Raph and his brothers have at least six criminals that they teach a lesson to per night. This week, there have been only three for the whole week, and most of them were just petty theft. It unnerves Raph, and he starts surveying the city quickly, searching for anything suspicious or shady. It takes him around fifteen minutes, but to Raph's dismay, there is nothing.

Raph sits on the rooftop of a large apartment building, watching the urban scene from where he cannot be spotted. Despite the late hour, people are still very much active. Watching them becomes boring, however, and Raph decides to move to a more deserted part of the city.

Raph is jumping from roof to roof again, when he hears a door slam near one of the apartment buildings around him. He looks over to the biggest building, which is probably around 20 stories. His eyes widen when he sees a woman in a peach tank top and gray sweatpants. Her feet are bare, and rather large, he observes. What really shocks Raph, however, is her defined muscle mass, and her golden tan skin. It isn't often that he sees a woman with such defined muscles around the city, unless he counts the women in the Purple Dragons. He won't even touch them.

The woman is just sitting on the railing of her section of the fire escape. Raph can't help but stare at her. 'She's one hot babe', he thinks as he watches her watching the city. This goes on for around ten minutes until he hears the heavy metal ringtone of her cell phone.

'She likes metal! Even better!'

The woman goes to take the phone out of her pocket, when she loses her balance on the railing. Raph gasps as he rushes over to try and help her, only for her to hit the concrete.

'No, no, shit, what do I do', thinks Raph worriedly as he rushes down to where the young woman lies on the concrete. He can see blood running from the back of her head, and he nearly panics.

'No, don't you dare die on me!'

He checks for her pulse, and is slightly relieved when he finds it. It's weak, but still there. He supports her head with one hand, and grasps her under her thighs. He picks her up, and urgently looks around, pinpointing their location.

'Aww, fuck, the hospital is too far away! If I take her there, she'll die on the way—'

He thinks about taking her back to the lair, but the thought makes him sick to his stomach. He already broke the rule of not going topside without permission. How would Leo and Splinter react if he not only returned after specifically being told not to go topside, but with an injured woman as well? Raph shudders as the images of both an enraged Leo and Splinter yell at him in his mind.

A pain-filled moan distracts Raph from his thoughts. He looks down at the woman in his arms, and is startled to discover that despite her head injury, she's opened her eyes. Raph is stunned to find warm chocolate orbs staring at him.

"You're pretty. And green. Forest green. Did you know that green is my favorite color? Along with red. My mom calls me the Christmas Elf because of it. Who are you? Are you friends with my mom?" The young woman murmurs slowly, while rolling her head to the side to get a closer look at him.

Raphael's amber eyes widen as he takes in what the young woman has just said. Friends with her mom? What the fuck?

"Lady, if ya think I'm your mom's friend, then your mom must hang with some pretty fuckin' crazy people", he retorts back.

"Yeah, Mom was never the normal type. My head feels funny. Why does my head feel funny, Mr. Pretty Green Guy?"

Raph sweatdrops before shaking his head, and replying, "Ya fell off the fire escape, and hit your head on the concrete. You're bleeding. Oh, shit, I forgot! You're bleeding! I gotta get ya to the hospital, Lady!"

The woman shakes her bleeding head, and says, "Nooo, not the hospital! My uncle works at the hospital, and he's creepy. And I don't have insurance! No hospital!"

Raphael thinks for a second more before sighing, and replying, "I have a brother who can fix ya up. But he's a bit different like me, so don't freak out when ya see him, okay? I'm gonna take ya to see him."

"If he's as pretty as you, then I'd be happy to see him! Let's see him!"

And with that, the woman closes her eyes, and loses consciousness.

Raphael sighs before starting to run towards the lair, while thinking,

'Shit, Leo and Splinter are gonna have my ass for this.'

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><p><strong>Okay, so this is the first chapter. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon, but I can't guarantee it.<strong>

**Please read and review, reviews are my motivation for these stories!**

**gothchic6**


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